


Rules of Engagement

by velvetjinx



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Deaf Clint Barton, Fluff, M/M, Minor Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Ordained Clint Barton, Smut, Steve Rogers Recovering, Therapy, Weddings, no hydra only russians, no mcu spiderman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-22 10:38:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19665745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetjinx/pseuds/velvetjinx
Summary: Steve loves Bucky. Always has, always will. And he knows that Bucky loves him right back. But what will it take to get a traumatized Bucky convinced of Steve's feelings for him?





	Rules of Engagement

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Art by Cassandra](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/496135) by Cassandra. 



> Thanks be to Liv for the beta, Cassandra for the art prompt, and most of all to the mods for their amazing work on the bang again this year.

It had been a long time coming, but Steve was finally able to bring Bucky home from Wakanda. Almost two years since the incident at the facility where the other Winter Soldiers were being kept; almost two years since Tony had found out what had really happened to his parents. It had taken a lot for Steve to convince Tony of Bucky’s innocence—it felt almost as though Tony was grieving again for his mother, like it had made the wound fresh again. But Steve’s patience had won out, not least because the remaining Avengers had been called in to deal with a man who was trying to take over the world, starting with the White House. The man had somehow gotten a hold of alien technology, and was using it to disintegrate anyone who threatened him. 

The Avengers had been in jeopardy, until Steve and the others had arrived, and between them they had managed to easily subdue the man. Steve himself had managed to deflect a disintegration ray from its intended target—Tony—which left Tony a little more open to listening to Steve’s side of the story. 

It had still taken a long time for the courts to decide that Bucky was an innocent victim, instead of being a willing tool of the Russians. Specialist doctor after specialist doctor went on the stand, explaining the extent of the damage that had been done to Bucky’s mind—the wiping, the trigger words, the torture, all of it. 

When the verdict came in, Steve had almost cried with relief. The whole trial had been run with Bucky _in absentia_ —Steve hadn’t wanted to take the chance that he would be arrested and locked up as soon as he was back on US soil. But now he was able to come home. Home, to Steve’s apartment in Brooklyn. Home, to almost-familiar territory. Home, to Steve. 

He had visited Bucky in Wakanda several times, of course. Their relationship had rekindled from the embers of their love almost straight away, so long apart meaning nothing between the two of them. 

At least, it meant nothing to Steve. He had the feeling that for Bucky it was a different story. Bucky was much quieter than he had been, for one thing, which Steve supposed was only natural, given all that he’d been through. But the thing that really worried Steve was that no matter how often he said the words, he had the feeling that Bucky didn’t believe his ‘I love you’s. Oh, he said it back, with as much meaning and emphasis as in the old days. Steve didn’t doubt it at all. But Bucky… Bucky was different. When Steve told him that he loved him, Bucky would say it back, but with a wistful smile. As though he didn’t quite believe what Steve was saying, but he’d go along with it anyway. 

That worried Steve a lot. Steve loved Bucky with his entire being, and if Bucky didn’t believe that…

Steve had been seeing a therapist on and off since the Battle of New York. More off than on, to begin with, but these days it was a fairly regular thing. His therapist was a lovely, older woman named Pamela, who dealt mostly with war veterans. She listened without judging, helping Steve to work through his issues without ever impressing her own views onto him. Steve loved Pamela rather a lot. She had never made him feel like he was a freak, or like he was on a pedestal. She treated him very much like a normal person who was seeking her help, and he appreciated it more than he could express. 

He had suggested to Bucky that he find someone similar to speak to, but Bucky had shaken his head. 

“It’s not like they’d understand any of it. Hell, I don’t understand most of it. Besides, my memories are so patchy that I don’t know that I’d be able to tell a therapist anything useful.”

Steve hadn’t wanted to push, so he’d let it go. It worried him, though. If he himself needed therapy for his considerably smaller amount of trauma, how much more did Bucky need it? 

It didn’t stop Steve from loving Bucky, though. From the moment Bucky had stepped through the door of Steve’s apartment, it was as though the world had clicked back into place again; had righted itself to where it should be. He couldn’t help but wonder if Bucky felt the same. 

“Hey, Buck?” Steve said one day as they were lying in bed, hands clasped together on Steve’s chest. 

“Yeah?”

“Are you happy here, with me?”

Steve couldn’t keep the hesitation out of his voice. Bucky turned his head, drawing Steve into a fierce kiss. 

“I’m at my happiest when I’m with you, Steve,” Bucky confessed. “You make me feel like maybe I’m normal again.”

Steve nuzzled Bucky’s cheek. “I love you so much, Buck.”

There it was; that sad look in Bucky’s eyes again. “I love you too, Steve,” was all he said. He lay his head on Steve’s chest, avoiding his eyes, and Steve frowned. Why wouldn’t Bucky believe him? Was he not affectionate enough? But Bucky had said he was happiest with Steve. So then what was the problem?

***

Bucky had been home now for nearly six months, and although he still wouldn’t leave the apartment without Steve accompanying him, he seemed to be getting a little more comfortable in his own skin. He was sleeping in only underwear now, and sometimes even naked; a far cry from when he had first come home and wouldn't sleep unless he was wearing sweats, a t-shirt, and his sneakers were by the bed ready to slip on _just in case_. Just in case of what, Steve almost didn't want to ask. He still jumped at small noises, and if a car backfired on the street his hand would go to his waist as he ducked down, as though looking for a gun which was no longer present. 

Steve had been taking a leave of absence from the Avengers while Bucky got settled, but one day he got a call from Tony. 

“ _We need you, Cap. Someone with the same kind of alien technology we saw eighteen months ago, this time terrorizing Rome. We leave in an hour, and it sure would help if you'd join us._ ”

Steve bit his lip. “I'll call you back in five,” he said quickly, and hung up, before going into the living room where Bucky was watching TV. “Buck, Tony just called,” he said, going straight to the point. “They need me to go to Rome.”

Bucky tensed. “If you've gotta go, you've gotta go.”

“I don't wanna leave you if you don't want me to,” Steve said, and Bucky's eyes narrowed. 

“I can cope, Steve,” he said through gritted teeth. “I'm perfectly capable of ordering takeout, we’ve got enough milk and cereal to do the next week, and there's loads of shit in the freezer. I'll be fine.”

“You sure?”

Bucky sighed. “I'm sure. You can't keep putting your life on hold because of me. Go. Go help. I'll be okay.” He shot Steve a wan smile, and Steve nodded reluctantly. 

“Okay. I'm gonna go change, and I'll let Tony know.” Steve went through to the bedroom, calling Tony as he went. “I'm in,” he said as soon as Tony answered. “Come get me in ten minutes.”

“ _Roger, Rogers,_ ” came the laughing reply, and Steve ended the call. He changed into his Cap suit, and kissed Bucky goodbye. 

“I'll be back before you know it,” he said quietly. 

“I'm looking forward to some peace and quiet,” Bucky retorted, but his smile didn't meet his eyes. “Go on. I'll see you when you get back.”

“Okay.” Steve kissed him again for good measure, then made his way up to the roof of the building to await the quinjet. 

***

They landed in Rome a few hours later, and made their way straight to where the guy had last been reported. He was still there, sending energy pulses into cars and buildings, causing havoc and destruction. When he saw the Avengers, he laughed, and sent a pulse towards them. But Bruce had already changed into the Hulk, and he ran towards the guy, the energy pulses doing nothing to his large form. The Hulk ripped the weapon from his hands, picking him up and shaking him. 

“Easy, big guy,” Steve called from where they’d run up behind him. The Hulk turned, snarling, and Steve put up his hands. “We don’t want to kill him. We need him alive to figure out where these weapons have been coming from.”

The Hulk growled, then set the guy down in front of Steve and the others. Tony cuffed him with some new unbreakable cuffs he’d developed, and Natasha picked up the weapon.

“Careful, babe,” Clint called, and Natasha grinned at her husband. 

“I’m always careful,” she retorted, enunciating clearly so that Clint could read her lips. She handed the weapon to Tony, as the authorities began to arrive. 

***

It turned out that the guy in New York who had been producing these alien weapons—who Iron Man had put away recently—had expanded his empire beyond just New Yorkers. 

“You mean to tell me there are god knows how many of those weapons all over the world?” Clint asked, words muffled around stuffing his face with a slice of pizza. Natasha gave him a fond, yet exasperated, look. 

“Gross,” Tony said lazily. “But yeah, I guess that’s what I am saying. We need to talk to the guy I put in jail and see if he’ll talk.”

Steve, meanwhile, was trying his damndest not to check the time on his phone, or excuse himself to call Bucky. He didn’t want to think about it as checking up on his boyfriend—Bucky wouldn’t appreciate that; wouldn’t appreciate the implication that he wasn’t able to cope on his own—but he just wanted to let Bucky at least know that he was okay.

Natasha poked him in the side. “You okay, Rogers?” she murmured, quietly enough that the others wouldn’t hear.

Steve nodded. “Yeah, all good.”

“If you want to go call him, we’d understand.”

Steve frowned and shook his head. “It’s fine. We’ll be heading back soon anyway, right?”

“Yeah. I totally intend to go into a carb coma as soon as we’re back on the quinjet.” Natasha grinned at him, and he couldn’t help but smile back. 

***

The trip home felt even longer than the trip there had done; as soon as the quinjet landed, Steve bounded off and headed straight for his motorcycle. He waved to the team and drove home, hoping that Bucky would be okay.

The door swung open to a near silent apartment.

“Buck?” Steve called softly. “I’m home!”

There was no reply. Alarmed, Steve marched through the apartment, heaving a sigh of relief when he reached the bedroom and saw Bucky fast asleep in bed. He looked at the time and frowned. It was only three p.m.; far too early for Bucky to be asleep.

Steve stripped out of his suit and climbed into bed beside him. Bucky shifted slightly, and opened his eyes. 

“Hey, you’re back sooner than I thought,” he said, his tone almost accusatory. 

Steve was stung. “Sorry, it was over pretty quick once the Hulk came out.”

Bucky’s expression softened. “No, I mean, it’s fine. I was just taking a nap.”

“Okay,” Steve replied, but still wasn’t sure. Something didn’t ring true, and Steve had taken enough depression naps in his time to figure that it was probably that. “You sure you’re alright?”

“Don’t fuss, Steve,” Bucky snapped back, then sighed. “Sorry. I just don’t need to be mothered.”

“I’m not your mother,” Steve said impatiently. “I’m your boyfriend and I’m worried about you.”

“For taking a nap?”

“Yeah. You never nap when I’m here. I just get the feeling that there’s something else going on here. I used to nap a lot when I was depressed, which is why I’m worried.” He paused. “You’d tell me if you were feeling that low, right?”

Bucky’s silence told the real story, even as he eventually nodded. “Sure, Steve. I’d tell you.”

Steve sighed. There was no point in pushing the issue. Bucky would just close off further. Instead, he kissed Bucky on top of his bed head. “Missed you.”

“Me too,” Bucky said through a yawn. “So, wanna stay in bed and watch some trashy TV?”

“Sure,” Steve replied, picking up the remote. This was a conversation for another time. 

***

“I’m not sure what you’re trying to tell me,” Pamela said the following day when Steve went for his fortnightly therapy appointment. “Are you saying that Bucky’s depressed but doesn’t want to seek help?”

“That’s pretty much exactly what I’m saying,” Steve said with a sigh. “I don’t know. He’s so supportive of me coming to see you, but when I suggest he does something similar he just closes off. Whether it’s because he’s ashamed of having to ask for help, or because he thinks he doesn’t deserve it, I don’t know. He won’t tell me.”

“Do you think he’d benefit from this kind of therapy?”

“I just wish he’d give it a try,” Steve replied. “I know that it’s not for everyone. But he needs to do something. It’s like he doesn’t believe that I love him, even, no matter what I do to try and prove it. Maybe he thinks I’m only with him because I always was. Maybe he thinks I feel sorry for him. Maybe he thinks I’m just fooling myself. But he’s wrong. I love him as much as I ever did, maybe more now. And I wish he could accept that.”

“For your sake, or for his?”

“Both.” Steve ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “For both our sakes. If he doesn’t believe the truth when he hears it, then that’s not healthy for either of us.”

“So what do you intend to do about it?”

Steve set his mouth in a thin line. “I’m gonna get him to believe it however I can.”

***

Never let it be said that Steven Grant Rogers did anything by halves. 

He’d been thinking about doing this for a while—pretty much since he and Bucky had got together again, if he was honest—so it just seemed like the logical thing to do. He enlisted Natasha and Sam’s help, and the three of them traipsed around the jewelry store, Sam and Natasha helpfully pointing out possibilities. In the end, he chose something not overly ostentatious—in platinum, so it would stand out against Bucky’s new hand—and hugged his friends, who wished him luck. 

He stopped by the grocery store on the way home to pick up some food. Bucky was sitting on the sofa watching _Nailed It_ on Netflix as he sauntered in. 

“I’m cooking us a proper dinner tonight,” he announced from the doorway. 

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Okay? What are we having?”

“Steak.”

“Nice,” Bucky said, stretching. “Sounds good to me. Do you need help?”

Steve shook his head. “Nope. You just watch your show.”

“How are Sam and Natasha?” Bucky called through to Steve as he went into the kitchen. 

“They’re good,” Steve called back. “They send their best.”

Bucky snorted. “I’m sure.”

Steve wrinkled his nose. “They do! You know that they understand about everything, right?”

Bucky was silent, and Steve poked his head back into the living room to see Bucky steadfastly watching the TV. 

“Buck?” Steve said softly. “You know that, right?”

“Of course,” Bucky said, smiling tightly, his eyes not leaving the screen. 

Steve went back into the kitchen, sighing heavily. He wished that he could get Bucky to understand that no one blamed him for his actions as the Winter Soldier, not anymore. Maybe when he carried out his plans that night, Bucky would realize how valued he was.

When it came time for dinner, Steve went all out. He set the table with some flowers and candles in the center, and served up just as Bucky came through to the kitchen.

“Wow, that looks really nice,” Bucky said softly, taking his seat. Steve sat opposite him, lifting his ice-cold beer bottle, and Bucky mirrored him, clinking them together.

“To us,” Steve said softly. 

“To us,” Bucky echoed, that wistful look in his eyes again, and they both drank deep. 

They made light conversation over dinner—Steve was too nervous to talk about anything particularly in-depth—and when they were finished Steve served up dessert. It was a perfectly baked cheesecake with a raspberry coulis, and Bucky raised an eyebrow. 

“Did you make this as well?”

“I wish,” Steve said with a laugh. “Got it from the bakery around the corner.”

Bucky nodded and took a mouthful, making yummy noises around it. Steve couldn’t help but smile. He took a deep breath, steeling his resolve, and took the small box out of his pocket, getting down on one knee next to Bucky. Bucky stared at him, wide eyed, but said nothing.

“Buck, I…” Steve had to pause and try to clear the lump forming in his throat. “I love you. I love you so much that I sometimes feel like my heart is gonna burst. I can’t imagine a future without you in it. I… I wanted to ask… will you marry me?”

There was a long silence. It only lasted a few seconds, but in Steve’s mind it seemed to stretch on forever. Then Bucky shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Steve. I can’t. I just can’t.”

Bucky stood up and dashed from the kitchen, and a few moments later Steve, still on his knee, heard the door slam. He got up and sat at the table, head in his hands. What the fuck was he going to do now?

***

“ _Hello?_ ”

“Natasha, it’s me,” Steve said immediately.

“ _Hey, lover-boy, how did it go?_ ”

“I asked him, and he said no, and then he just ran out!”

“ _What?_ ”

Natasha sounded as nonplussed as Steve felt. “What the hell am I gonna do?”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, then a sigh. “ _Steve, you said yourself that Barnes has a lot of issues. Maybe this is part of it? Maybe he doesn’t think he deserves a happy ending with you because of everything he did for the Russians._ ”

Steve sat down heavily on the sofa from where he’d been pacing. “Shit. Do you think so?”

“ _From what you’ve told me? I think it’s entirely likely. He obviously still has a fuckload of guilt, no matter how misplaced that might be, and for you to offer him something that he most likely wants but doesn’t think he deserves? He’s going to be really conflicted._ ”

“So what do I do?”

He could practically hear Natasha shrug down the phone. “ _I don’t know, Rogers. I’m not a therapist. You know him best. What do you think you should do?_ ”

“I’m gonna go after him,” Steve said determinedly. “I don’t know exactly where he’s gone, but I have a vague idea where I might find him.”

“ _Good luck, Steve._ ”

“Thanks, Natasha.”

Steve ended the call and slipped on his sneakers, grabbing his keys before running out into the night. If he didn’t find Bucky… if Bucky had disappeared again… But Steve wouldn’t let himself think about that. _Couldn’t_ let himself. He just had to find Bucky. 

The old neighborhood had changed a lot, but in many ways was the same. Steve found Bucky on a side street, looking up at the door of what had once been Steve’s apartment. 

“You found me, then,” Bucky said, without even turning around. 

Steve remained silent, and Bucky sighed. 

“We were so happy before the war, remember?” Bucky said quietly. “Just you and me in our apartment, in our own little bubble.”

“Yeah, having to be quiet when we had sex because of the thin walls and we could have been arrested for sodomy. I don’t know, Buck, I kinda like the future. But I like the future with you in it, you know?”

“Yeah.” Bucky was quiet for a moment. “I think I need help, Steve.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Bucky turned around; his eyes were red and swollen from crying, and his fists were bunched. “I just… I have so much guilt, so much _anger_ , and I don’t feel like I deserve to be happy with you.”

Just what he and Natasha had thought, then. “Buck, you did nothing wrong of your own free will. But you need to believe that. I can ask Pamela to find you someone as good as her, better even, so you can work things out. How does that sound?”

Bucky nodded, crossing his arms tightly around himself and looking miserable. 

“Can I hug you?” Steve asked, and Bucky nodded. Steve took Bucky in his arms and held him until Bucky relaxed into it, wrapping his own arms around Steve’s back. At length, Steve pulled back, using his sleeve to wipe the moisture gathered in Bucky’s eyes. “Wanna go home?” he asked softly.

“Yeah. Yeah, let’s go home.”

***

At his next appointment, Steve brought up Bucky’s agreement to go to therapy with Pamela.

“And this is his choice?” she asked, looking over her glasses at Steve.

“Yeah, he actually said he thought he needed help.”

Pamela smiled. “That’s a good start. My colleague would be excellent for him. She specializes, like me, in veteran PTSD and especially people who have been reluctant about seeking help in the past. Would you like me to ask her to give you a call about setting up an initial appointment?”

“Please.”

She nodded, and made a note on her notepad. “And how are you coping with Bucky saying no to marrying you?”

Steve winced. She really went for the hard questions. “I’m okay, I think. I mean, from the way he reacted, we might end up getting there one day—it was more to do with his feelings of being undeserving than not loving me enough. And maybe we won’t; maybe he’ll heal and find out that it isn’t what he wants after all.” Steve swallowed hard. 

“And that’s difficult for you to think about?”

“Well, yeah,” Steve admitted. “I mean, Bucky’s been my everything for so long. My feelings haven’t changed towards him, but he’s been through so much that it’s possible he won’t feel the same way towards me.”

“Do you think it likely?”

Steve sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know what to think. All I know is that I’d rather Bucky was on the road to healing and health and didn’t want me, than was in the state he’s in now and we got married.”

“Good answer.” Pamela smiled at him. “Well, hopefully Jen will be able to help him.”

“I hope so too,” Steve responded. “I really hope so too.”

***

Jen called that afternoon, and Bucky spoke to her hesitantly, answering a few preliminary questions. Steve made as if to leave him in private, but Bucky grabbed Steve’s hand and held him there. Steve was more than happy to oblige him. 

His first appointment was in two days—“No time like the present to get started,” Jen had said—and when it came around Bucky was nearly vibrating out of his skin as he dressed. 

“You don’t have to do this alone, you know,” Steve told him, putting his hands on Bucky’s shoulders. “Just say the word and I’ll call and ask if I can be there with you.”

But Bucky shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I think I’ll be okay. I’m just scared,” he added quietly. 

“It’s okay to be scared,” Steve said. “It’s how we react to fear that defines us. And you’re doing so great.”

“Thanks, Steve.” Bucky paused. “Will you come and sit outside and wait for me? Would you mind?”

Steve kissed him softly. “Of course I’ll come and wait for you.”

“Thanks.” Bucky kissed him again. “Okay, how do I look?”

“Ready for anything,” Steve replied, and Bucky smiled.

***

Waiting for Bucky to come out of his therapy appointment was the most nervous Steve had been in a long time. He hadn’t even been this nervous before asking Bucky to marry him. When the hour was up, Bucky emerged from the room, shaking Jen’s hand and smiling, although his eyes were red rimmed and puffy. He walked up to Steve and pulled him into a hug.

“You okay?” Steve asked, lips brushing against Bucky’s neck as he spoke.

“I think I will be,” Bucky answered, before pulling back and smiling. “Come on. I need coffee and some kind of seriously unhealthy pastry after that.”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh.

***

Bucky never spoke about what he discussed in his therapy sessions, and Steve never asked. He was seeing Jen twice a week, and every time he came out, although he had obviously been crying, his shoulders were just that little bit straighter, as though a weight was slowly being lifted off them. 

By the time he’d been going for three months, the appointments reduced to one per week, and afterwards Steve always met him for coffee. Bucky would leave the apartment by himself now, and didn’t jump as far at loud noises. Cars backfiring still got him, though, which was understandable. Trauma didn’t magically just disappear after a few therapy sessions. But he was working through it, and that was what mattered. 

Six months after Bucky’s first therapy appointment—almost a year to the day since Bucky had moved in—Bucky cooked dinner to celebrate. He made spaghetti and meatballs, one of Steve’s favorites; but before Steve could start serving from the huge dish of spaghetti, Bucky cleared his throat, holding out a small box. He opened it, and inside was a beautiful ring that looked suspiciously like the one he’d bought for Bucky all those months ago. 

“Steve Grant Rogers,” Bucky said softly, “will you marry me?”

Steve shook his head. “Bucky, I can’t. Sorry.” Before Bucky’s face could fall, Steve added, “I mean, you stole my line, and I can’t marry you unless I get to pick the venue.”

Bucky burst into startled laughter. “So is that a yes?”

“Well, I mean, do I get to pick the venue?”

“You can arrange the whole damn wedding for all I care,” Bucky retorted, eyes sparkling.

“Then yes. Yes, Bucky, let’s do it. Let’s get married.”

Bucky grinned, getting up and sitting on Steve’s lap. He drew him into a deep kiss, and smiled against Steve's lips. “So when do you wanna get married?” he asked, and Steve smirked.

***

“You’re getting married _when_?” 

In all fairness, Steve thought, Natasha’s surprise was totally justified, given the bombshell he had just dropped. Bucky squeezed his hand.

“Next week,” Steve replied. “And we’d love for you all to be there. And Clint,” he added, before signing quickly, _Since you're already ordained, we’d love for you to officiate._

Clint put his hand over his heart. “It would be my pleasure,” he said, and the whole team ran up and piled into a group hug around Steve and Bucky. Steve could feel Bucky tense, then relax into it, and was glad. 

***

A week wasn’t exactly ideal to get things organized for a wedding, but it wasn’t exactly big. Just the team and a few friends from SHIELD. Steve discovered that the church he had attended as a child, St Mary Magdalene, had been decommissioned and was available for not only civil marriages but the reception too. They managed to secure it for the Wednesday, and as they stood up and made their vows in front of all their friends, it felt perfect. But when Clint pronounced them married, and their lips met in the sweetest kiss yet, Steve knew in his heart that they would last forever, no matter what. 

The reception afterwards was fun, but when it hit eleven p.m. and Bucky looked at Steve with heat in his gaze, Steve knew that it was time to go. Their friends whooped and hollered raucously as Steve and Bucky left, and Steve couldn’t help but laugh, pulling Bucky into a waiting cab. 

“Happy?” Steve asked, and Bucky leaned in.

“Happier when I get you home and ride you until you scream,” Bucky replied in a murmur, and Steve bit his lip. 

Luckily it wasn’t long until they reached the apartment, and by the time they reached their bedroom they were naked, clothes strewn all over their path. Steve nuzzled Bucky's neck, before biting softly on his ear. Bucky moaned. 

“Never get tired of hearing you make those kinds of noises,” Steve murmured. 

Bucky kissed him. “Only for you, baby,” he said, and Steve's heart was fit to burst. 

Bucky lay on the bed, knees bent and thighs spread, with his feet planted on the mattress. Steve covered his fingers in lube and began teasing at Bucky's hole, dropping a kiss on Bucky's knee as he pushed a finger inside. Bucky groaned, pushing back against Steve's finger. 

He opened Bucky up slowly, taking his time and making sure to occasionally rub against that spot inside Bucky that made him whine and thrust up. Bucky's hands were fisting in the sheets, and he was making the most amazing noises. Steve's cock was hard and leaking, and Bucky was in a similar state, a puddle of precome on his stomach. 

“Fuck, Steve, just fuck me already!” Bucky gasped out, and Steve grinned. 

He pulled his fingers out and lay next to Bucky, as Bucky got up on unsteady knees and coated Steve's cock in lube. Then Bucky was straddling him, holding onto his cock and sinking down slowly onto it. Steve let out a moan as he was enveloped in tight heat. 

“Oh, fuuuuuck, Steve.” Bucky dropped his head as his ass met Steve's hips. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good inside me.”

“Yeah, fuck,” Steve responded. “So you said something about riding me until I scream?”

Bucky's expression turned wicked, and he began to move, setting the pace. It felt so fucking good. 

Steve began to roll his hips, fucking up into Bucky as he dropped down onto Steve's cock. Bucky leaned back slightly, and cried out. 

“Oh fuck, yeah, right there. Oh my god.”

Steve grabbed Bucky's hips, thrusting harder and taking over, and Bucky damn near screamed. 

“Feel… good…?” Steve panted, and Bucky nodded. 

“Oh fuck yeah, Steve, oh my god, don't stop don't stop don't stop!”

Bucky's hand flew to his cock, and he began to stroke himself, moaning. “Fuck, Steve, not gonna last!”

“Me either, Buck.” Steve could already feel his orgasm building and his balls tightening, but wanted Bucky to come first. “You close?”

“So close, Steve, fuck, gonna come all over you, oh my god.”

“Do it, Buck,” Steve told him. “Wanna be covered in your spunk, wanna know that I belong to you.”

“You do, baby, oh my god, fuck, gonna come, coming!” Bucky gave a cry as he came, streaks of come pulsing from his cock all over Steve's stomach and chest. 

Bucky's muscled squeezing around his cock were driving him closer to the edge, and he thrust up only a few more times before his pleasure crested and he came with a garbled curse on his lips. Steve flopped back on the bed, and Bucky climbed off him, wincing slightly. He lay next to Steve, his head on Steve's shoulder. 

“You're kinda a mess,” Bucky said, and Steve laughed. 

“It's your mess, so it's fine.”

Bucky kissed him. “Our first time as a married couple. I'm sorry I couldn't last longer.”

“It's fine,” Steve told him. “We have the rest of our lives.”


End file.
